


Mar'eyce: Aliit

by NoirAlbatross



Series: Mar'eyce [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Canon Rewrite, Character Death, Child Abuse, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Bonding, Gen, Genocide, ManDadlorian, Mandalorian Culture, Mental Health Issues, Most of the Covert Lives, Panic Attacks, Parent-Child Relationship, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sequels havent happened yet..., Sibling Love, Starvation, sibling prank war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirAlbatross/pseuds/NoirAlbatross
Summary: To be a Mandalorian is to be both Hunter and Prey. To be a family means to be loved. Din Djarin wishes that loving his children would be enough to keep them safe.The baby hunted by Imperial remnants, Rey haunted by the loss of her parents, and Finn broken by a new rising threat.He would raise them as Warriors. This was the Way.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Finn (Star Wars), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Rey (Star Wars), The Mandalorian & Finn, The Mandalorian & Rey
Series: Mar'eyce [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949785
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: Star Wars Fanfiction Discord





	Mar'eyce: Aliit

**Author's Note:**

> TW for this chapter.  
> Physical Child-abuse  
> Multiple near-death experiences  
> Pseudo Medicine

The wound was festering, and there was nothing to be done. Kirev and his gaggle of pricks had stabbed him again. This time right below his ribs, magically avoiding anything vital. He’d asked Malri for something, anything. But she said she and the girls were out after some rough clients.

And so his search continued.

He’d hobbled about for a few days like a womprat, back to eating scraps and drinking from the gutters. He couldn’t do runs like this; he didn’t want to go deal Spice.

Finn kept searching for any medicine that could help, but he was running out of options. There was only one other place he could look; it was a stretch and would probably get him killed. But that death would be much quicker than sickness. Death looming overhead. He walked into the club. Seuzz was a sketchy club, even by Scuma’s standards. The planet’s surface covered in casinos, clubs, brothels. A pleasure planet, with a notable drug and slave trafficking ring. A perfect place for a runaway kid.

The club packed with the smell of Spice overwhelming his senses. Vials of death sticks tossed to the ground. He was out of place. He was small and weak. The only thing he had in common with most of the patrons was desperation and dirtiness. A droid noticed him first, offering a drink or spice. A great sign — the droids hadn’t been ordered to alert anyone of his presence. Instead, Finn walked over and asked for One, the owner of this shithole. He would look back one day and say that it was the best thing he ever did.

That’s all he remembered before blacking out.

He woke up on the floor. His head was probably bleeding; he couldn’t breathe; his right leg was most definitely broken. Finn was ready for death as the one-eyed drug lord watched him from across a dingy room that smelt of shit. 

“You cost me, kid,” One said as he stepped closer to him and crouched. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea?” A blaster hitting Finn’s forehead punctuated each word. “How much the merch fucking cost?” 

Unable to look him in the eye, Finn shook his head. “I asked a fucking question!” One kicked him in the stomach, right on his wound. A scream fell out, like that of a dying animal; an onslaught of pain brought him back, this time to his head.

“I’ll answer it for you kid: your shitty life wouldn’t pay a single credit.” One’s voice was calmer now but filled with a seething rage. Finn didn’t look up; he’d die if he did. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as One got up and walked towards the exit. His deep, grating voice made Finn flinch. “You know what I’m gonna do, Trooper? I’m gonna set you up on a playdate.” The door opened. More light flooded in… and more people.

Maybe dying in his alley from fever would’ve been preferable.

There was pain, everywhere, coming and going. Accompanied by grunts and curses, the volley of blows and kicks felt never-ending — face buried in his elbow, the back of his head kicked; his body shredded by blades, creating a flaming pain all over. At some point, he thought he was being forced to drink piss. The pain numbed his thoughts too much to care. A small part of him wished he hadn’t run away, but he had. Dying in this room would be better than serving the First Order. He was only FN-2187, disposable not worth a single credit. Darkness took over.

Screaming and yelling, that’s all he heard. He couldn’t move — something yelled at him to move — he tried again. Through searing agony, he sat up to drag himself towards the door; when it opened, he saw was glass. All the bottles of alcohol shattered on the ground. The two bar droids on the ground; a blaster must have shot through them.

A shootout. More blasters fired, things fell and crashed. Voices overlapping patrons either joining the conflict or egging it on. The commotion was at its height; this was his only chance. Not daring to look overhead, he stayed behind the bar. Dropped on his forearms and knees, the pandemonium made him invisible.

Fueled by a primitive instinct, he made a break for the alleyway exit; he only stumbled once, over the body of a dead Zabrak. Shoving the exit open threw him onto the piss-soaked concrete. Finn started laughing. Adrenaline coursed through him, keeping the pain of near-death at bay.

Not a scratch on him. Other than a broken limb, multiple lacerations, a what he thought was a concussion, and other injuries, he was fine! He was alive; all he needed to do was stay alive.

He passed out again on the cement.

“A Mandalorian, can you believe it?” a voice murmured. Finn was waking, but yet too tired to open his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping on the cold ground like expected. It was a bed. Soft and welcoming, unlike the barracks. Under One he slept on the floor. He didn’t know where he was. The panic forming in his stomach settled with a familiar voice, “playin’ dead won’t help you here, love. How ‘bout you tell us what happened?” Madame Malri. Was he in her brothel? Finn opened his eyes, taking in the dark curtains and hazy lights. The lights were bright enough to make his head hurt and vision blur, so he closed them and tried getting up. Pain searing through every part of his body.

Holy Shit. He was alive; he was breathing, he couldn’t move his right leg, but he was alive!

Hands shot out to help him sit up. Perhaps the next few moments could have been handled better with his cooperation. It didn’t matter because Finn was soon asleep once more. His flailing and violent thrashing put to rest. But the peace didn’t last as the women muttered in worried tones. It was truly an act of some god that he was alive and a mercy one of their girls found him in time.

The little boy on the bed, beaten and bruised beyond recognition when poor Aja carried him in. Scared out of her mind seeing the mess the bar was in and the state the brothels dear Sunshine Boy was in. Somehow this child had escaped whatever his past was and decided that living on the streets working for Spice Lords and occasionally hiding with prostitutes was a much better life.

The issue on the table was that Finn was alive and he should not be. Someone wanted him dead, and they could all be in a lot more danger than they bargained for. Madame Mari didn’t doubt for a second that it somehow tied this to the man in priceless silver armor.If the Mandalorian wanted the boy dead he wouldn’t have hesitated, right? There was absolutely no need for the state he was in. The horror stories of proud warriors seeped into her mind, whispering affirmations that the Mandalorian was merely playing a game of cat and mouse.

Such a thought would be useless to her if she didn’t have any confirmation from the victim himself. All she could do was be patient and hope. A privilege in a place like this.

She tasked two boys to monitor him and apply the treatments when needed. The Madame knee where’d she get her answers while Finn awoke. She made her way to the floor. Clients came and went as always, but there was a topic to the conversations of the patrons: One was being hunted and was as good as dead. The Mandalorian claimed the bounty on his head.

Malri didn’t like One a single bit, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried. It would cause a power vacuum she didn’t look forward to, but that would come later. If the Mandalorian got a hold of One. But he had hideouts all over, everyone knew that, but no one knew where. Sure, Scuma wasn’t the largest of planets, but it was dense. It would take forever to track down a man as slippery as One.

She pushed those thoughts to the side and began working. She had a job here and she couldn’t afford to lose it. That night each courtesan assigned to their place the prettiest brothel in the worst part of Scuma cared and protected Finn.

**Author's Note:**

> @chaotic-skyyy on Tumblr  
> uwu thanks to everyone who hyped this idea up.


End file.
